Disclaimer: Well…I don't own the characters, the setting, or even the plot…but I own…something? Written for Challenge 23 of the Seanfhocal. I dedicate this to Kes, for helping me with details. And MANY Thanks to the Flamer who beta'ed since I am seeming to suck right now.

Longnight

Briar Moss looked around the cramped table uncomfortably. The oak table was packed with people and despite its massive size, was very overcrowded and awkward. And itch grew on his leg until he carefully bent to scratch it, wishing that the garments he wore had been made by his foster sister and not by some woman in a noisy shop. Sandry would probably enjoy the outfit.

It was the newest fashion apparently, but Briar preferred to call it uncomfortable. The dark charcoal did probably bring out the green-gray of his eyes, Briar decided as he passed a platter of rolls along the line. But the high throat made it hard to breathe and the billowing sleeves of the midnight over jacket kept drooping in to his food.

"Stop fidgeting," hissed a voice.

Briar glared at his teacher and mentor. Looking her over he snorted and busied himself with his soup. Rosethorn scowled and tried kick him under the table. Briar heard her suppress a curse as her feet became tangled in her skirts of mixed dark and warm browns. The woman straightened her back and pushed a loose strand of hair out of her face before forking a wedge of cheese. Her auburn hair had been to short to do anything fancy with, but Evvy had done her best to ornament it with a copper comb decorated with Tiger-Eye stones (jeweled by Evvy especially for the occasion. Briar snorted in to his drink as Rosethorn tugged at the already high neckline.

When his teacher had emerged from her room at the inn Briar had laughed so hard it was hard to hear what threats she shouted before she stomped down stairs. Although Briar had to hand it to her, the dress was skillfully cut to hide her stocky frame and broad shoulders, and with the touch of her pale ivory skin Briar might even call her...well, lovely.

Rosethorn herself looked no happier at being here, not to mention being here in a dress. She kept glaring at the man sitting on her other side. Dedicate Crane was dressed in the same style outfit as Briar but with colors that more accented his black hair and deep brown. The older man sat beside Rosethorn, but turned to

face his mother at the head of the table. After years in Crane's company Briar finally understood the older man's lack of patience, he used it all on his mother!

Crane's mother was a thin, stern looking woman with black hair that showed signs of over-dying. Her face was painted with a white paste to try and deceive the look of aging. Thin lips were painted and worked into a scowl as she hounded her son about how much time he was spending in at the Winding Circle. Black brows knitted together and she slapped the table top with a wrinkled hand. Crane's thin face was tight, and Briar could see the strain it was taking for Crane not to break out and yell at the old goat. Perhaps this was love for a mother?

Briar shook his head and took a bite of the cheesebread off his plate. Crane had somehow got in contact with Rosethorn (Briar had a sneaking suspicion that they had been exchanging letters since they left the temple) and asked her and Briar to accompany him to his family's Longnight feast. Just back from Yanjing, they had arrived in Crane's homeland only a week before. And to Briar's great surprise and shock, Rosethorn had accepted for both her and Briar, a decision that Briar was increasingly regretting.

"And that 'green house' of yours!" The old woman's voice pierced through Briar's thoughts. "Absurdity! Absolute nonsense! What's the point of making plants grow in an expensive house that you don't even live in?"

Crane flushed slightly and murmured to his mother, though Rosethorn looked oddly pleased.

Briar chuckled to himself. Despite the fact that Rosethorn hated being here, she undoubtedly loved to hear someone else criticize Crane and his greenhouse.

"And you, boy!" Briar blinked and looked at the over painted face. He felt a prickle of annoyance; did she just call him 'boy'…?

Crane's mother studied him through scowling brown eyes. "My son says he taught you in the temple. Said you were a mage. A good one."

Crane blushed a second time as Briar felt a slight touch of pride. Who would guess Crane was complimenting him in front of others!

Rosethorn nudged him sharply, indicating he was supposed to answer.

"Yes Madam." Briar said, trying to keep his accent down to a minimum. "I was taught between Dedicate Rosethorn and Dedicate Crane."

"And your parents boy. Are they as proud of their son as I am of mine?" she asked dryly.

Briar cocked his head, startled at the unfamiliar word. Parents?

Crane cleared his throat. "Briar Moss came to the temple alone, mother. He has no family to speak of."

The old woman mumbled an apology but kept with her Attack. "Well then! Are you pleased? Do you like being a so-called Green Mage? A bit unpractical if you ask

me."

Briar was about to reply that he'd rather not ask her when he caught Rosethorn's eye. Briar sighed knowing the comments he would like to give would serve no one.

Biting the inside of his lip, he counted to ten slowly, a slow smile spreading across his face.

"I agree madam. Green mages have so little purpose open to us. We can only do things such as help and grow crops that feed everyone. But farmers can do that." He said, keeping an eye on Rosethorn.

"Exactly," sniffed the aging woman.

"And it's not as if we can truly heal, we can only make medicines and ointments, and sometimes just useless lady face paints."

"Utterly pointless" she agreed.

"And during attacks and battles. What use is it to have a Mage make the enemy weapons sprout leaves or create barriers of thorns?"

"No use at all!" Crane's mother said approvingly. "My, you certainly have finer head on your shoulders then my young son!"

Briar had thought of many words to describe Crane in the past few years that had known one another. But 'young' was not one of them. Still he smiled politely

and bobbed his head in a slight bow.

"And I can see that his mother also has a fine head atop her shoulders."

The old woman laughed clapped her hands.

"You see!" she snapped, turning quickly on her son. "Even a boy has more brains then you."

Briar chewed contently on his dinner as Crane's mother hailed down her criticism. Rosethorn chuckled under her breath.

"That's my buck."

The End.

AN: I know I suck. I'm tired and sick. The Flamer made many suggestions, but I didn't take them all, I prefer to remember suggestions. It could have been lots better. She is an EXCELLENT beta.

p.s. Yes, I know that it's Rosethorn's birthday, but she choose another one so I skipped it.